Ricky's Story
by jennylovestowrite
Summary: There are at least two sides to every story. This time, it's Ricky's turn.


Authors Note: I know that this first part could be viewed as 2nd person. However, it is supposed to be imagined as more of a voiceover as the story starts. After the brief introduction, it goes to 1st peron, I promise.

Disclaimer: I do not own these charcters, their names, locations, etc.

* * *

Only half of what you've heard about me is true. I take that back, it's probably closer to about a quarter. It's not that others lie about me; it's more that they embellish. I admit, I have been "around the block" a time or two. I don't think that necessarily makes me a bad person. Although I guess before I get into all of this, it would probably help if I let you know a little more about me, from me, that is.

My name is Ricky Underwood. Ah ha! I _knew _you'd heard of me. I saw the way you twitched uncomfortably when you heard the name.

We'll let that go for now. Since you've heard of the name, I'm sure that you've heard the whole story about Amy Juergens, John, and me. That however, is _her _side of the story. Did anyone ever ask me my side of the story? Nope, they didn't.

I still remember the first time that I saw her. Someone or other had pointed her out to me, mentioned she was going to be going to Grant in the fall, and I knew that that was going to be my golden opportunity. After all, I was already a legend at Grant, even though I was only going to be a sophomore, and it wasn't often that freshmen left that kind of legacy at the end of Freshmen year…

Anyway, from the moment I first saw her, I thought she was pretty. After all, who wouldn't? She was cute, seemed smart, and was in the band. I couldn't argue with that. So I decide to start making small talk, and to see where it went. Regardless of what everyone seemed to think, having sex with her wasn't my plan. I don't make a habit of seducing fourteen year old virgins. Or fourteen year olds at all. It's like I had told her, it was something that just happened. I wanted to spend more time with her, I really did. She was cute and sweet and innocent. I won't lie and say it wasn't a turn-on, it definitely was. But it was different than it had been before. I saw the reaction that she had when I first kissed her. I could see that it was her first kiss. I guess I should have known that if it was her first kiss, she had never had sex before. But there was just something about her. That night after all of our camp activities, we were hanging out and I reached in to kiss her again and this time, she didn't seem so surprised, more that she was expecting it, and was _definitely _into it. She was so different than any girl I had ever been with, there was just something about her, something that just made me comfortable being around her. Now, with all of that behind me, it's time for you to hear _my _side of the story.

* * *

"Have a good summer at camp," my foster mother, Margaret Shakur, told me as she climbed back into the car. "Be good."

"I will," I promised her. "I'll be a perfect angel."

I didn't hear the exact words that she said after that, but I have an idea that I probably wouldn't have liked what they were if I had heard them. I waved a last good-bye to them as they turned the car around and left the camp, and then made my way to the main area of the camp. It hadn't changed much. I had been going to the same camp since the summer after sixth grade, and it was always the same. A few new people here and there, but other than that, it was nothing new.

"Hi, Ricky." "Hey, Ricky." I nodded and waved randomly at the different people as they waved at me and called out my name. all I wanted to do was make my way to the main hall and get my room assignment and be able to get on with it. There was nothing special about it, I had no friends waiting for me, hoping that we would room together. I wasn't "normal" like any of the other kids here. I didn't get to go to camp because my "parents" were wealthy and felt it was good for my well-being. No, I was sent here because it was part of the foster care agreement. Not to mention I was one less kid the Shakurs' would have to worry about over the summer.

"Ricky Underwood?" asked the tall blonde, who looked to be about eighteen.

"That would be me," I told her, trying to look bored. After all, she was eighteen, I was fifteen, almost sixteen. It could work.

"You're in cabin 4," she said, without even glancing at me. Well, there went that down the tubes. Oh well, it was worth a shot.

I carried my duffle over my shoulder and made my way to the cabin. It wasn't hard to find. Especially with the clever way that they named the cabins; those just leaving sixth grade were in cabin 1, seventh grade – cabin 2, and so on. There was one for both the boys and girls. It didn't take long to find, especially since I had spent all of last summer in cabin 3. The summer before that, cabin 2.

I didn't even pay attention to the people who were already in the cabin. I just tossed my stuff onto the bunk, and walked back out. Or tried to anyway.

"You're Ricky Underwood, right?"

I turned around. It was just my luck. The voice wasn't friendly, and it also didn't belong to a small guy. I looked up, and met the face of a 6'6" 250 pound tuba player (I didn't find out until later about the tuba part, though).

"Yeah, that's me."

He squinted his eyes and glared at me.

"Make sure you keep your paws OFF my sister this year."

I didn't have a problem agreeing to that.


End file.
